Lily stepped to the mirror in the bathroom and looked at herself. She was by no means ugly, in fact, she was actually very pretty. She picked up the scissors that had fallen into the sink and chopped her hair to all different lengths. It was all she could do to stop from killing herself that very night.
She wondered, as she sat in the salon chair. Her mother stood only a few feet from her. She couldn’t explain why she had done what she did. Every time she tried she was silenced. Her parents spoke only of the embarassment. She tried to talk to her friends, but no one understood her. So she continued to wonder what it felt like to die. Would it end the pain that she felt inside?
One night as she stood before the mirror, her hair still mangeled beyond repair, she started crying. She didn’t know why she was crying. Nothing was wrong with her. She was in respect, the perfect girl. She lived the American dream. Rich parents, lots of friends, the best school. She had everything, and yet, she truly had nothing.
Her friends were people who would turn on her at the slightest hint of nonconformity. Her parents pushed her to excell at everything she did. They never showed her love. They were to concerned with their image. They had to be the perfect family, and she, in turn, had to be the perfect little girl.
She looked up at her crying face. Her tears made hot streams of scarlett down her cheeks as she picked up the pill bottles. Xanax, valium, sleeping pills, and a few other half full bottles that she had found in her parents room. She hesitated and said a small prayer before she quickly and methodically took each and every pill from the nine various bottles now in her bathroom. She locked the door and filled the bath tub with water. She undressed and stepped into the steaming water. She could already feel the pills taking effect. She started to feel drowsy and let herself sink down into the water. Soon all was dark.
Lily was found the next morning by her older brother Charles. Her death sent shockwaves through their tiny community. How? Why? Questions no one could answer.
Lily was only nine years old.
Author’s Note: this piece was written in response to the growing number of suicides in america. i have to wonder what kind of society we live in where children, young children who have barely begun to live their lives want to die. they have the means and the will to die. it saddens me that we live in an age where most of what i hear is children 13, 14, and 15 who want to die. who think that they have nothing to live for. life has barely begun for them and it saddens me that they should want to die. society seriously needs to rethink its values if these children have to find comfort and solace in death because no one is willing to listen.
–mourning